Endless Binding
by Jayden Scott
Summary: After the war, Liara and Shepard struggle adapt to their new life and how the war has changed them, for better and worse. Every action has its consequence. Sequel to Love Bound. FemShep/Liara. Adult and mature themes within.
1. Chapter 1

**Soooo... this is set in the same universe as Love Bound, the collared!Liara/Femshep fic I did a couple weeks ago. Reading it would be helpful, but not totally necessary.**

**Call it a sequel, if you'd like. I just wanted to explore more of the ideas laid out in the original fill, and it was requested by a couple folks for me to continue it.**

**That being said, I'm going to preface this with a fuck ton of author's notes.**

**Okay, the sequel is going to be heavier on plot. I'm sorry in advance. There will still be a decent helping of smut and D/s, but I really wanted to explore some of the ideas I had in the original fill with Shepard being crippled, adjusting to civilian life, Earth recovering, how others react to their D/s relationship, etc. The wounded warrior concept is personal to me, and I want to see how Liara and Shepard deal with it. That being said... this is also going to be a longer, ongoing fic. I usually don't post until I have a full, meaty chapter, but I'm feeling sadistic and wanted to put this first part up as a tease, see how many people want me to continue. ;-) ****Thanks for being patient with my rambling. And**** here is the tease... **

* * *

"Are you sure you packed everything?"

"Liara, it's four days. And we aren't even leaving the planet. Or the continent for that matter." Shepard smiled, amused as she watched her lover pace back and forth across their bedroom. She picked a few extra rolls of socks from the dresser, walked to the bed to place them in her suitcase, only to change her mind and return to the dresser. "Besides, if we forget anything, I am sure I can use some of my pull as savior of all sentient life to get an extra pair of socks."

It was rare that she saw the asari harried. Even in the direst life or death situations, she always responded calmly, rationally. She kept her cool in combat, always responded well to pressure, never panicked. Very few things set Liara on edge, put her out of sorts. Well, except whenever Shepard drove them anywhere. But the only thing aside from what she referred to as "Shepard's suicidal driving tendencies" that managed to make her jumpy was her academic work.

It probably had to do with her early career, before she and Shepard met, when she was considered too young and naive to be taken serious by the academic community, when her theories and ideas were considered at best far-fetched and in some cases, heretical. But things had changed since then, and her theories and work with the Protheans was validated by an actual living Prothean.

"Did you pack your medicines?" Liara asked absently, her brow furrowed as she scrutinized the contents of her open suitcase.

Shepard's bags were already packed and waited by the bedroom door and had been for several hours. "Of course I did." She struggled against the stab of irritation in her gut. She might not be in top form, not capable of taking a charging krogan or even making it to the kitchen without her cane, but she wasn't completely helpless. Her lover was just anxious, she reminded herself. "Hey, come here, love."

"Shepard, not right now. The shuttle will be here in twenty minutes to pick us up." She refolded her clothing to make more room for another outfit. Just in case.

"Liara," Her voice sharpened, indicating that it was not a request. "Come here." Her tone finally broke through the asari's preoccupation, and she complied, moving to her lover's side and allowing her hand to be taken. Shepard smiled and pulled her into her lap, ignoring the shriek of protest from her hip and leg. Resting her hand in the small of Liara's back, she softened her voice. "You're going to give yourself an aneurysm before you even get to the lecture if you keep this up."

Purple flushed the asari's cheeks, and she ducked her head, abashed. "I'm sorry, Commander." She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands, an uncharacteristic gesture of nerves. "It's been so long since I've lectured. All I can think about is standing in front of all those people, and…"

"Hey, there's that awkward, shy archaeologist who stole my heart." Shepard teased, which only deepened the blush on her lover's face. In fairness, Liara had matured greatly over the years since they met. Now she presented a confident, unflappable countenance and most times it was true, but at heart she still possessed that timidity, that innocence of spirit and awkward uncertainty that Shepard found so endearing about her.

"Not helping," Liara said, but the broad smile that graced her lips betrayed her.

"You'll do wonderfully. You're a genius, and I can't wait to sit in that crowd and watch all those heads and scholars drool over my incredibly beautiful, unbelievably intelligent lover as you school them on stuff they weren't smart enough to figure out on your own, and know that you're all mine." Nuzzling into the asari's neck, she placed a delicate kiss on the curve of her jaw.

Liara ran her fingers through Shepard's hair, relaxing against her. It made her feel better to know that Shepard would be in the crowd, to know that her commander was proud of her. "All yours," She murmured, tilting her head and allowing her unhindered access to her neck.

"Speaking of which…" Shepard slipped a finger under her the collar fastened around Liara's neck. "I don't think you can wear this while you're lecturing."

"No," Liara agreed, a bit mournfully, touching her blue fingertips to the collar. "I might be able to get away with it since the majority of the attendees will be human. Humans are reluctant to acknowledge the obvious and would probably assume it is an accoutrement of asari culture."

Shepard turned the collar so the buckle was facing her and gently unbuckled it. She had not realized how accustomed she had become to seeing Liara wear it. Her neck appeared bare without it. Setting the collar beside her on the bed, she shifted to reach into her pocket. "Miranda helped me pick it out the last time we were here, since I have absolutely no sense of style, or so she claims." It was a braided leather necklace, not quite a choker, with a small, platinum medallion hanging from it. Shepard held it up for Liara to see.

From practiced routine, Liara held her head up, presenting her neck to Shepard so she could fasten the necklace on. She touched her fingers to the medallion that rested in the hollow of her throat. "It's engraved. It says Luthien, and…" Reaching into her pocket, she produced a second one, brown braided leather where the other was black and smaller. Shepard fastened it around her wrist. "This one says Beren. It's a reference to…"

Liara silenced her by placing her fingertips on her lips, then kissed her. "I know the myth, Shepard." She kissed her again, reached out with her mind to allow Shepard to feel the depth of her emotion, the overwhelming force of affection and tenderness the gesture had caused to well up in her throat.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Shepard affirmed the feelings with her own. "Come on then. Now we only have ten minutes until the shuttle gets here. That's enough packing. Let's wait on the porch."

* * *

**A'right. Let me know, beloved readers. And don't forget, baby Reapers with killer lasers... you know the deal.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I was going to wait to upload anymore, but due to some wank on the kmeme, I updated there sooner than I planned. And I thought it only fair I update here too.**

**That being said, this installment is heavy on development and angst, but that is the nature of this beast.**

* * *

"You think you had to travel through the relay to get here." Miranda said impatiently as their shuttle door opened. The former Cerberus operative stood with her hands on her hips, nearly glaring as the asari and human climbed out. "I have been waiting for an hour."

Shepard grinned and slipped her upper arm into the cuff of her cane while Liara and the driver unloaded their bags. "You know how traffic is on Earth, Miranda."

"Commander. I had forgotten. It almost makes me wish the Alliance had not pardoned me." Her glare was accusatory this time since Shepard had been largely involved for having the Alliance issue a full pardon for Miranda and a few other Cerberus defectors. Now, in a twist that tickled the commander with delicious irony, Miss Miranda Lawson, former ice queen of the outlawed Cerberus, now contracted with the Alliance, advising, researching, being wholly responsible for Shepard's medical care and recovery. "At least then I could be on a planet with a civilized transportation system."

"But then you wouldn't have the pleasure of getting to work with me, again." Shepard grinned. Miranda's eyes swept appraisingly over her, scrutinizing the cane, her posture, making mental notes on her weight and any other physical characteristics. Shepard had put on weight, which was good, but she was still far from her pre-war physique. The scars on her face healed nicely. She leaned heavily on her cane, as if using it to prop her up rather than using it to assist mobility.

"You're tired." Miranda decided, as if chiding the commander for her recklessness with her condition. "Hello, Dr. T'soni."

Liara set Shepard's bag down beside her and embraced Miranda, which startlingly, the human returned. "Always so formal, Miss Lawson."

Although their relationship had been strained at first, no doubt due to Liara's initial dealings with the Cerberus operative during the retrieval of Shepard's remains, and then having to hand them over to the one organization she knew Shepard abhorred, Miranda and Liara had developed a friendship. Liara knew that Shepard trusted Miranda, liked her even, and Miranda had come to respect Shepard's judgment implicitly. After all, if it hadn't been for Liara, Miranda would not have been able to bring Shepard back to defeat the Collectors, to save them all. If it hadn't been for Miranda, Liara would not have her lover.

What had been a casual friendship had intensified during the first few months after the war ended. Neither woman left Shepard's side for more than a few moments at any given time. While Miranda worked diligently to put the commander back together, to heal her wounds, Liara had watched and realized that this wasn't like Project Lazarus for her anymore. During Project Lazarus, Shepard had been an experiment, a faceless, voiceless task, a series of numbers and statistics and vital signs on a datapad. Now, that she knew Shepard, now that the commander had forced her to reexamine who she was, now that she had come to love the woman who had once just been a pile of meat and tubes, ensuring her survival, reassembling her, had been much more difficult.

They had shared tears and triumphs, and Liara had been graced to see the human side of Miranda that Shepard saw.

"Sorry, Liara." The dark-haired woman shrugged, smiled. "Force of habit."

Shepard picked up her bag, waving Liara off as she tried to take it from her. Miranda watched the exchange, amused. While they had never hid their relationship before, they were always professional in the company of others. It was entertaining to watch the couple interact without the constraints of professionalism. Liara fussed over the commander, and Shepard surprisingly allowed it without rebuke.

Her eyes settled on the necklace Liara wore and the bracelet around Shepard's wrist. A collar in a public setting, of course, was out of the question for the commander who was a soldier and officer to her core, and more conservative than she let on. Miranda had assisted her in picking something out for Liara that was more discrete the last time she had checked on Shepard's progress at the cabin.

Some of the things Shepard considered were altogether horrific. If it hadn't been impractical, she would probably still dress in a uniform. What had Miranda told her? Oh yes, "You have all the fashion sense and style of a hanar." She had contacted an artisan offworld, had him commission two pieces, and had them shipped to Earth. That was much more satisfactory than buying something off the extranet, Miranda thought.

"Yes, commander." Liara replied to a question that Miranda had not heard Shepard ask. While their relationship had never been a secret, the precise nature of said relationship was known only to a few, select individuals, and Miranda felt privileged to be among them. Shepard valued privacy, so she felt immeasurably humbled that Shepard invited her into her personal life, shared this part of herself, her relationship with her. Though she would never admit it, even if pressed.

Sexuality was fluid, flexible, and incredibly varied. All sentient life participated in innumerable sexual practices and customs, relationships and arrangements. Miranda considered Shepard and Liara's relationship with the same practicality that she considered everything else. It fit them, and it was no more or less unconventional than anything else she had seen over the years. If a race of ancient synthetic life forms could resurface every fifty thousand years to destroy all sentient life, who was to say what was normal anyway?

Besides, it was utterly fitting for Shepard to be in charge, in control. Miranda had realized that the moment she had officially met the commander.

"We'll be sharing the penthouse suite." Miranda said finally, once the couple had finished playfully bickering over the luggage. "It has three bedrooms, so I assumed you would not mind."

"Of course not," Liara said smiling as they followed Miranda into the hotel. "I can't say how much we appreciate you coming."

"Not at all, it saves me a trip to that forsaken mountain you live on." Miranda said dismissively, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Shepard who was being uncharacteristically silent. She had won the argument and carried her own bag, but Miranda had known her long enough to realize when she was being stubborn. Her heart ached at the woman who seemed so out of place when she wasn't in armor, when she struggled with a small duffel bag and leaned heavily on a cane to walk, her skin abnormally pale and pinched. She quickly looked away, ignoring the stinging behind her eyes.

"Why don't you all leave your luggage here?" She said when they reached the front desk. "Liara, I'm sure you want to get checked in with the conference? Shepard can go up to the room, and I will accompany the bellman with our things?"

* * *

Their accommodations were far more than adequate, Shepard thought. Somehow, the building had managed to escape the brunt of the Reaper attacks, and all damage had been quickly repaired to render the building serviceable again. It was one of the few in the area, and even after so many months it still served double duty as an Alliance headquarters as well as a hotel. It was impressive such a structure survived in what had been one of the larger cities before the war, but she hated the windows.

The lounge area alone boasted a huge sliding glass door that led onto a balcony. It once afforded a view of the city, a panoramic cityscape of a once beautiful city in the shadow of the mountains. Now it only overlooked a shifting expanse of rubble, of varying shades of gray and charred black. Once towering buildings were reduced to skeletons, hollow frames of concrete bone. Vehicles still littered the street like desiccated corpses, either burnt or rusted out. The sky was perpetually grey, cold. All the dust and debris kicked up by the destruction wrought by the Reapers had polluted the atmosphere. And even on a clear day the sky was more slate gray than blue. Past the city, the once majestic snow-capped peaks of the mountains now more resembled stony giants, overbearing sentinels gazing indifferently at all the destruction at their feet.

It made her wish they were home. She had not seen much of the destruction after the war. When she had been moved from the Alliance hospital vessel to Earth, she had been secreted far away, in the country, isolated from all the devastation. Sighing, she turned from the window and hobbled into the bedroom, where she abandoned her cane against the wall and lay on the bed, arms crossed over her eyes.

Her head was throbbing. She wasn't used to traveling anymore, and the hours in the shuttle had made her legs stiff and her joints ache. Before, she used to go days without sleep if she was on a mission. Now, she just felt tired. The pain in her lower body she had learned to cope with, but the headache was persistent. Sighing, she pushed herself into a seated position. She had carried up her small bag of personal items, medicines and such. But she had put them in the bathroom just off of her and Liara's bedroom when she first came in.

Grunting, she pushed herself off the edge of the bed and stood. The bathroom wasn't that far; she should have been able to make it without her stick. But she had not accounted for how stiff her leg would be without the aid of the artificial joint, without the support of the cane, and it buckled under the slightest weight, sending her sprawling across the hard floor.

Unfortunately, the bathroom wasn't that far and as she threw her arms out to break her fall, she miscalculated the distance and slammed her forehead on the bathroom door. The crack of her brow against the hard metal was jarring. It always amazed Shepard exactly how effective pain was at paralyzing the body. For several breaths, she could not move as the pain radiated in waves from her brow, into the roots of her teeth, down the back of her neck. Tears stung the back of her eyes before she could move again.

Dumb with shock, she pushed herself up, but not trusting her legs, dragged herself into the bathroom. Using the sink and her upper body strength, she pulled herself up to reach the kit stashed on the shelf above the sink and tucked it under her arm before lowering herself back down. She crawled, relying completely on her arms, to drag her back to her bed. She was seated before it finally began to settle in that she had fallen.

Her eyes settled on her leg, on the scars and bruises that lay under her trousers, on the malformed bones. A knot formed in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow several times. Several deep, even breaths and she had convinced herself that she was okay. Unzipping the med kit, she rummaged for her pills.

"Shepard, everything is settled with the front desk, but this is the last time I carry—" Miranda halted as her eyes settled upon the commander. She abandoned Shepard's bag at the door and crossed the room in a few quick, graceful strides. "What happened?" She knelt in front of her, took her wrist in between her fingers and began checking her pulse.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Shepard gently tugged away her hand, forced a faint smile.

"Oh?" Miranda eased up on her knees, lifting herself slightly so she could reach Shepard's face. Perplexed, Shepard tensed and shrank away but she still managed to wipe the pad of her thumb through the stream of blood that had not quite dried. She showed it to her. "Then what is this?"

The commander studied the blood on Miranda's thumb, genuinely bewildered. Touching her own fingers to her brow, she seemed surprised when they too came away bloody. Her expression hardened, and green eyes cast downwards, as if she were ashamed. "It's nothing."

How a single woman could be so unbearably frustrating was beyond comprehension. The years had done nothing to dull the commander's obstinacy. Miranda threw her hands up in frustration. "It isn't "nothing," Shepard. Your health and well-being is my responsibility, dammit."

"I fell."

"What?" Miranda frowned, confused.

"I tried to get to the latrine without my stick," Shepard explained quietly, gesturing vaguely at her cane which leaned against the nightstand. And I fell… and hit my head."

Her normal response would be a flippant comment about clumsiness, or at the very least she should chide her for her stupidity. Honestly, she was not a child and should recognize her own limitations. But… shame and insecurity were as clearly etched on the other woman's face. Tears glistened unshed in those emerald green eyes as Shepard turned to look at her, defiantly, as if daring her to something.

It wasn't the first time that she had seen Shepard truly vulnerable, and Miranda was astonished that it still shook her to her core to see the commander as anything other than uncertain, unwaveringly confident. This was the woman who took her through the Omega-4 Relay, who had bounded down from the ship onto the Collector base with an assault rifle resting on her shoulder as if going for an afternoon stroll. She had taken Miranda on every leg of their journey through the base. She had defied The Illusive Man, destroyed the Human-Reaper, and saved Miranda from plummeting to her death, half-carried her back to the Normandy. The same woman who killed a Reaper, on foot, and then said, "Well, one of us had to go," when Miranda had asked about it.

Now, she could not make it across a room unaided.

"It's okay." Tentatively, Miranda reached out and rested her hand on the former soldier's knee.

Shepard rolled the bottle of pills in her hand thoughtfully. "Will I ever get better?"

It was a hard question, one that Miranda did not even want to answer. "There are variables, many different factors to consider."

"Being tactful, Miss Lawson?" The commander grinned mirthlessly, rested her hand on Miranda's. "The truth?"

The former Cerberus operative inhaled shakily, wondering at the change in herself. Years ago, before she had met Shepard, she would have told anyone the ruthless facts, the cold truth. Softening the blow never did anyone any good. Now she was reluctant, and had it been anyone else, she might have still given a clinical, indifferent answer. Voicing it made it true, and she did not want it to be true, not just for Shepard's sake. "It is… unlikely, Lissa. The cybernetic grafts have rejected twice. I can, and will, try again, but they will probably reject as well. There are therapies… physical therapies, and you will regain strength, but…" She found she couldn't meet Shepard's eyes.

"I'll never see action again." Shepard whispered, still staring intently at the pill bottle without seeing it. "I'll never be who I was."

"No." Miranda withdrew her hand and went to the bathroom, filled a plastic cup with water, and blinked in the mirror several time until her eyes were clear before returning to her friend. "Saving the galaxy wasn't enough? You want to see more action? And people think I am arrogant." She asked said, smiling and hoping a little teasing would break the somberness of the moment.

Shepard popped the cap off the bottle and tossed two capsules to the back of her throat, chased it with a swig of water. "No, but I would have liked to have the choice." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You can still serve. Not even the Alliance is stupid enough to forcibly retire you if that isn't what you want. You could advise, assist with the rebuilding." Miranda tossed the empty cup into a nearby waste basket, sat next to her on the bed.

"Politics?" Shepard snorted and quirked a brow. "You have met me, haven't you?"

"Point taken, Shepard. Do you have any medigel in that bag?" Miranda reached across Shepard for the bag and began rifling through the contents.

"Yeah, some meddling asari insists that I have a tube with me at all times." Shepard smiled fondly as she mentioned her lover, but then the smile faltered. "Hey, Miri?"

Miranda dabbed a bit of medigel on her finger, angled Shepard's face towards her with her other fingers. "Yes?" It was rare that Shepard used her pet name, and the only person besides Orianna Miranda felt comfortable doing so.

"Don't tell Liara. I will." Shepard tilted her head, pulled her hair back with one hand to allow Miranda to apply the medigel. There was a brief fiery cooling on the cut as the medigel began to knit the wound back together, to seal it off from infection. "Please?"

Miranda slowly withdrew her hand, wiped the lingering remnants of medigel on her slacks. "Of course, Commander."

* * *

**You can take the soldier out of the war, but you can't take the war out of the soldier. Or some equally trite saying. For some reason, I feel compelled to explain myself so y'all don't think I'm rolling off on a tangent with this fic. **

**So, I wanted to do a post-ME3 fic that explores what happens if Shepard does survive, the more realistic ramifications of everything. Don't worry, D/s will still figure in largely to the story, but I wanted to do more with it. I made Shepard crippled on a whim, but I realized that I've never explored that in a story before and I wanted to. I wanted to write what really happens if you're lucky enough to survive the Reaper War and make it home.**

**Yes. More tangents. Okay. I think I'm done for now. ;-) MOAR FEEDBACKS!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay in this update. My muse is being a fickle bitch all of the sudden, and I hit a writer's blockade. :-P**

**But, special shout-out to T.A. Blackwell for being my beta. She rocks my friggin' socks right off.**

* * *

"Are you certain you feel up for this?" Liara examined herself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing out her dress so it hung flawlessly from her figure. She had chosen a deep red dress, burgundy in shade, because Shepard had once commented she liked how the color complemented her blue skin. It was asari in style of course, which Shepard also appreciated because it showed off her curves without being too revealing.

She didn't want to force Shepard to go if she was tired. Liara had noticed the cut on her temple right away, and Shepard had explained she had fallen, but assured her it was nothing. It was a scratch. She had just been clumsy. The commander seemed fine, but Liara also knew how stubborn she could be.

"You know I have been to this sort of thing before, Liara," Shepard responded from the bedroom, her voice slightly muffled, presumably because she too was getting dressed.

Liara smiled in the mirror. "I doubt you have been to anything quite like this. Academic conferences can be… different."

"Look, I'm an Alliance officer. I've been to plenty of balls, ceremonies, conferences. I think I can handle a "welcome social" for a bunch of scientists and nerds. I'm sure it'll be similar." She grunted with effort, and Liara couldn't imagine what she was doing. "A lot of chest pounding, self-congratulatory banter. 'Oh, interesting you should mention quantum phosphoric dingle-nuggets; I discovered the phosphoric dangle-niblets.' Everyone is completely confident that they are the only ones with the correct answer, but everyone is obsequiously polite about it. Then everyone gets drunk, and wakes up in hotel rooms not their own."

"Well, I have every intention on waking up in my own room." Liara gave herself one final glance in the mirror to ensure that her dress was straight, her necklace hung perfectly, before exiting the bathroom.

This was not the first formal function she had attended with Shepard over the years, but for those Shepard had always worn her Alliance dress uniform, which Liara found incredibly handsome. There was something about seeing her lover in military uniform, so pressed and pristine, so flawless, that it set her heart racing. Shepard had a naturally authoritative presence, but in that uniform she seemed a foot taller, omnipotent. Liara found herself grow heady just thinking about it.

But she hadn't packed the uniform for this trip, because she had said, "This is about you Liara, not me. That goddamn uniform is like a beacon. It's bad enough I am who I am, I don't want that overshadowing what you have accomplished." Liara had been touched by the sentiment, but still disappointed that the uniform would not be making an appearance.

All such thoughts immediately fled her mind as her eyes lighted on the commander. "So? How do I look? It's been awhile since I've had to get all fancy in civilian clothes?" Shepard held out her hands and turned, the expression of genuine uncertainty on her face utterly endearing.

Liara's mouth was suddenly dry. She wore black slacks that were loose around her calves but hugged her thighs and hips tightly. She wore a pale blue button-down shirt with a collar under a black vest, both were traditional wear for human males but these garments were perfectly fitted to Shepard's figure, showing off every curve and asset of Shepard's femininity. Around her neck she wore a scarlet red tie, knotted at the throat and disappearing under the buttoned vest. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled to her elbows, and her auburn hair tucked behind her ears.

Though she wore what Liara would have assumed were more masculine accessories, Shepard appeared very comfortably feminine and alluringly powerful. She caught the ripple of muscle in her forearms as Shepard lowered her arms, and faced her. Liara forgot she had not answered and swallowed hard several times, unable to tear her gaze away from her lover. "Y-you look beautiful, Shepard."

"Are you sure?" Shepard ran her fingers through her hair, one of her anxious gestures. "I don't want to embarrass you in front of all your scholarly friends."

Liara crossed the remaining distance between them and took the tie in between her fingers, marveling at how smooth the fabric felt as she gently tugged the commander in to kiss her. "I could never be embarrassed by you, Commander. Never."

"Mmm." Shepard smiled into the kiss. "Have I been granted your approval then, Dr. T'soni?"

Liara pulled away to study her lover's face, appalled. "You've never needed my approval!" Then, when she realized that her bondmate was teasing her: "You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful, no matter what you wear. But this…" She fingered the tie suggestively, stood on her toes for another, slower kiss. "This is particularly intriguing."

"Oh?" Shepard cupped her cheek, placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close until their hips pressed together. "Maybe we should skip the social, and we can find out exactly how 'intriguing' I can be."

"Commander…" Liara breathed, feeling her cheeks flush with the thought. "You can't say such things. I'd appreciate it if I could make it through this one social without being utterly distracted." In retrospect, she should have known better. Saying that her commander could not do something was the surest way to provoke her.

"Oh, Dr. T'soni," Shepard said darkly and grinned, patting her backside. "Perhaps you need to be reminded about what exactly I can and can't do." She pulled away slowly, her hand lingering on Liara's cheek. "Grab my cane for me, please."

Liara complied, reaching for the stick that leaned against the wall and handing it to her lover, who slipped the cuff on. "Sadist…" She muttered under her breath, trying to restrain the smile tugging at her lips.

"You would not have it any other way, my love."

* * *

The social was about what Shepard expected it to be, although it was more crowded than she expected. There were at least two hundred scholars and scientists in attendance, with more expected to arrive the following day for the official start of the conference. She learned, from listening to Liara speaking with some of the scholars, that this was an "emergency" conference to discuss and share knowledge learned in the aftermath of the war with the Reapers.

There academics were of nearly every discipline: physicists, astrophysicists, engineers of every variety, psychologists, medical doctors, biologists, chemists, anthropologists, archaeologists, historians, and even a few professors of literature. The leaders of every field were present, and Shepard was not surprised that Liara could freely converse with just about any of them.

At heart, Liara had always been a scientist. Her motives for joining Shepard had initially been curiosity, and the personal connection of her mother, Matriarch Benezia. And while she was more than a capable fighter, she was and never had been a soldier. It saddened that the war had steered her so far off course from her original goal, took her from the path she obviously loved. Even if in the end, none of their success would have been possible without her.

More than the wistfulness, Shepard felt proud. Liara was intelligent, as much at ease speaking with a horticulturist as she was with a fellow archaeologist. Shepard was smart as well, but in a different way. She was good with people, with tactics. With strategy and war. Liara was academically intelligent, her mind absorbing information at a rate that Shepard could never even hope to be capable of. She made connections between seemingly unrelated bits of data in an instant.

Most of the night, Shepard merely observed, watching her lover converse with her colleagues, nodding at appropriate intervals but otherwise saying very little. She didn't have much to contribute to the conversations anyway.

Liara was beautiful. The way her brow knit together, the way she nodded when considering one of the other scientist's theories. The way she cocked her head to the side whenever she found something particularly interesting. The way she laughed at jokes that sailed far over Shepard's head. This was Liara's element, and it made Shepard happy to see her in it.

"You're not tired?" Liara rested her hand in the crook of Shepard's arm, laid her head on her shoulder momentarily. They had spent most of the evening meandering from one knotted group of scholars to another.

Shepard shook her head, smiling fondly at her. "I'm fine. How about you, Dr. T'soni? Tired of all the attention yet?"

Liara felt her cheeks flush slightly, and she glanced around self-consciously. "What?"

"Don't tell me you hadn't noticed?" Shepard inclined her head, indicating the entire room. "Everyone in this room wants you. Notice how every time we join a group, several more people show up right after? They all want you."

"That can't possibly be true." Liara said, though she had noticed that everyone seemed to know who she was, and was very friendly. She looked up at Shepard, trying to determine whether or not she was being teased, but it didn't seem so.

"It's true. You're brilliant. You're beautiful. You discovered the Crucible. They can't take their eyes off you. Watch." They walked passed a small cluster of people, two humans and an asari. Their conversation did not slow, but their eyes definitely shifted. The asari went so far as to turn her head completely, unabashedly raking her gaze up and down. Suddenly, Liara felt hot. "Told you, they all want you. But you're mine."

"Should I start introducing you as my owner, instead of my bondmate?" Liara teased, squeezing Shepard's arm. She wasn't accustomed to the attention. It made her a little uneasy, but also made her heart beat a little quicker. Being noticed was something she worked hard to avoid most of her life, content to be alone on her dig sites, away from the pressures of being Matriarch Benezia's daughter. This was different. People didn't look at her because of who she was related to. They were looking at her because of who she was, what she had accomplished. And the difference was dizzying.

Shepard made a noise in the back of her throat. "That might only encourage some of them. Besides, I know who you'll be going home with tonight."

Emboldened by her realization, Liara felt playful. "Oh, and who is that?"

The commander leaned in, her voice dropping so that only the asari could possibly hear. "The human that's going to have you on your hands and knees, fucking you from behind tonight."

"Shepard!" Liara gasped, feeling her face turn violet. The words, and the image they conjured, sent a jolt of sharp pleasure in between her legs. "How am I supposed to concentrate when—"

But the human only grinned more broadly. "The woman whose every command you will obey, or suffer the consequences."

Liara suddenly remembered their conversation in the hotel room, Shepard's warning about her needing a reminder. She groaned at the sensations her lover's voice, her words caused. "Please…"

"Oh you'll be saying 'please' a lot tonight, my love." Shepard showed no signs of letting Liara off the hook, which only made the asari's breath quicken. "Unless I decide to put that mouth of yours to better use."

Liara shut her eyes, allowing her lover to guide her for a moment. She could feel herself getting wet. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly Shepard could turn her on, how swiftly she could be coaxed into desire. And the fact they were in public only made it worse. Or perhaps better. Her cheeks were burning, but she felt a thrill knowing that they were surrounded by other people, and none were the wiser at what was transpiring between the couple. To the outside observer, they were simply walking around the ballroom, arm in arm, talking.

"You want that." It wasn't a question. "You want to feel owned by me."

Liara licked her dry lips. "Yes," She whispered.

Shepard grinned and leaned in to kiss Liara's crest in what appeared to be a tender, romantic gesture. But to Liara, the graze of her lips was maddening, and her knees felt weak. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Commander." Liara nearly whimpered. Every step only intensified her frustration, providing the slightest bit of friction, of pressure that was woefully inadequate. She felt the slickness between her legs, and her fingers tightened around Shepard's arm again, this time for support. "I only want to be yours."

"Good girl," Shepard said, and dropped her arm to snake around her waist, her hand resting on her hip, her thumb just grazing the top of her buttocks, stroking. "Now, for the rest of the night, I want you to think about it. Of all the sordid, dirty little ways I'm going to make you mine."

Liara blinked, realizing that Shepard had deliberately steered them towards another group of scholars, who visibly brightened at their approach. How was she supposed to engage in any sort of intelligent conversation when all she could think about was Shepard's hand between her legs, her mouth on hers? Her eyes narrowed in realization, and she bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. "Sadist…" She muttered, just so her lover could hear, and then forced a smile for her fellow academics. "Dr. Brandt, how lovely to see you again."

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**I'm overwhelmed by the positive response to this fic. Especially since some of the more emotional/plotty subject matter is near and dear to me. So, for everyone who has favorited this fic, followed it, or reviewed, thank you from the bottom of my heart. So thank you for doing your part to save this cycle, and for touching the heart of this wounded warrior.**

**Man. I just realized that author note was a little heavy after a lead-in to lesbian alien sexy time. My bad, y'all. PORNS!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Of course my muse returns for porn. Slut. **

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Liara's heart beat faster and faster as they approached their hotel room. Shepard was silent as they rode the elevator up from the main floor to their suite, which only caused the asari's anticipation to intensify. By the time they were actually in their room, her heart was thudding and her blood audibly rushed in her ears.

She opened her mouth to speak but Shepard placed a finger over her lips. Liara nodded at the unspoken command, and reached for the commander's vest, her fingers deftly dealing with the buttons. Neither spoke. Their gazes locked with one another, Shepard's green gaze one of smoldering intensity, of patient need. Gently tugging, Liara loosened the tie and pulled it over her lover's head, tossed it aside onto the bed. The shirt swiftly followed it.

There was an intimacy Liara enjoyed about undressing her lover. It wasn't necessarily a task expected of her, but one that Shepard appreciated. And in the current context, it was dizzyingly erotic. When she was naked from the waist up, Shepard placed her hands on Liara's shoulders and gently turned her. She unzipped the dress agonizingly slowly. Liara inhaled sharply as strong hands slipped under the fabric of her dress, contacting with bare skin.

"Shh. You have to be quiet tonight, love. Not a sound." Shepard whispered, her breath grazing the back of Liara's crest.

Liara straightened and gave a half-nod of understanding, taking her lower lip in between her teeth and resolving to be as silent as space. She felt particularly submissive this evening; usually she enjoyed provoking her commander a bit, tempting out the aggressive side of her lover. She loved feeling the rush of powerlessness whenever Shepard asserted her authority, moved her wherever she wanted her, held her down.

Other times, she simply wanted to give herself to the commander, to submit completely and know she was safe, loved. Voluntarily surrendering held its own appeal, knowing that she did so by choice, aware that she was utterly owned by Shepard, knowing that the gift of herself was accepted and appreciated completely. It made her feel whole, complete in a way she might not have ever known but by experience. As if by submerging herself in Shepard's will, she had found fulfillment, purpose.

Liara felt herself undressed slowly, her dress puddling at her feet, followed by her underwear. She felt herself pulled backwards until her back pressed against Shepard's front, the human's nipples hardened against her back. "Present." Shepard's voice was still a whisper, a gentle command.

Reluctantly, Liara pulled away, breaking the skin-to-skin contact and crawled onto the bed. She knelt, then fell forward on her elbows, her ass thrust upwards, and waited. She was already wet; her lust had been steadily building ever since their whispered conversation in the ballroom. She needed release, but knew it would come whenever Shepard was ready, and Liara felt satisfaction in her acceptance of that fact.

She listened, hearing the rustling as Shepard prepared herself. Liara had a good idea of what to expect, and she wanted to glance around, but held her position. She preferred Shepard's commands holding her in place, rather than cuffs or rope. Sometimes though, Shepard found the bindings necessary whenever Liara squirmed too much, too often. But Liara enjoyed being forced to rely on her own self-restraint, of having to make the conscious decision to obey.

The bed caved as Shepard finally returned, climbed up behind her lover. Strong hands gripped the asari's hips, pulling her backwards. There was a hovering moment of hesitation, a breath that seemed to freeze, as Liara felt the tip of the phallus press into her. She could tell by the way Shepard exhaled shakily as she entered her that it was the one that transmitted sensation.

Liara bit down on her lower lip to keep from whimpering as she was filled, bit down harder as the shaft was slowly withdrawn and entered her again. Once the meld was active, she'd cum nearly immediately, but it wasn't about her tonight. It was about Shepard. Even if every thrust made Liara pant with need, her gratification would be secondary tonight. Pushing back, she took Shepard in deeper and was pleased by the sharp gasp of pleasure that escaped her lover.

Liara squeezed her eyes shut, losing herself in the pleasure, losing herself to the knowledge that right now she was being used solely for Shepard's pleasure, and Shepard moved as slowly or as quickly as her own needs dictated while Liara fought her own desires. Liara tried to focus on Shepard's pleasure, to ignore the pulsing throb between her legs that was growing painfully wonderful. For a moment, she lost her composure and moaned as she felt herself entered more roughly.

Shepard paused and leaned forward, draping her body over Liara's, which only embedded her more fully inside her. "Quiet, love. Or else Miss Lawson will know you're getting fucked. And you don't want her to overhear you embracing eternity, do you?"

The thrill of Shepard's words sent a tremor of want through Liara's body. The threat of being overheard, of being discovered at her most vulnerable by another person was perversely exciting and caused her to clench her fists in the blankets to keep from crying out again. Panting with exertion, she forced herself to answer, "No, ma'am."

"Good girl." Shepard straightened, and began thrusting again. Fingers dug into her hips as the pace quickened, grew more desperate. She would be bruised in the morning, but Liara was always proud of the marks the commander left on her, a badge of pride, of how much Shepard wanted her.

When she came, it was with a shuddering sigh, but she did not slow. In fact, she thrust harder, and Liara had to brace herself more firmly on the bed to keep from being driven forward. The pleasure was becoming unbearable, but Liara was determined to hold firmly, to not beg or ask for release, to accept it when it was given. But it was hard. Her knuckles were pale blue as the blanket was fisted in her hands, and her lower lip was bruised from biting down to keep in her cries and moans. She felt her biotics smoldering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over as she longed to join with her lover.

As Shepard approached her second orgasm, she reached around Liara's hips, her fingers seeking out her clitoris. Shepard moaned barely audibly in the back of her throat as her fingers found the slick heat, then started teasing her already sensitive clit. It was too much, and Liara pressed her face into the blankets, to muffle the cry she knew she would not be able to stifle.

Shepard stiffened again, and this time her pace faltered as the climax overwhelmed her. She collapsed against Liara's back, her skin slick with sweat, her breath ragged. One hand still in between her legs, she was still inside of Liara. After a few long moments of recovery, she pulled herself erect again.

"Join with me." Shepard grunted, her voice hoarse.

Liara did not need to be instructed again, and her consciousness immediately collided with Shepard's. One voice, one mind, one need. Liara felt herself being fucked again, felt the shadow of pleasure that was Shepard's as the dildo entered her again, and again. Deft fingers played with her clit, pushing her nearly immediately over the edge of orgasm. Liara bit into the blanket, sobbing her release to keep from screaming as powerful waves of pleasure tore through her restraint.

Her muscles trembled, weakened by the orgasm, as Shepard whispered in her mind, gentle encouragement towards another climax that Liara was helpless to resist. Again her body tensed, her hips pushing backwards into Shepard's, taking her in fully, grinding down on the hand that rubbed her clit. Thought, time, reality ceased to have any meaning. There was no existence in the world outside of her and Shepard, outside of their pleasure, love. She lost track of physical reality, of how her body responded to the second, galaxy-moving orgasm.

When she returned to the present, she was surprised to find that somehow she had maintained her position and that Shepard had pulled out of her. Shepard pulled herself to lie next to Liara, to pull her out of position to lay on top of her. Grateful, Liara relaxed against the bare skin of her lover, shifting just slightly so that Shepard could remove the dildo and toss it aside. "I love that thing. But it looks ridiculous. And it just gets in the way afterward."

Liara smiled into Shepard's bare chest, pushed herself up slightly on shaky arms to kiss her. "I love you."

Shepard's eyes were visible even in the dark. "I love you too." Her fingers gently caressed the folds of Liara's head and neck, and Liara made a small noise of pleasure. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Tilting her head into Shepard's touch, Liara felt her smile broaden. "Yes. I probably am." Shepard kissed her again, nipping her lower lip with her teeth, and Liara squeaked. "I can't believe you packed that." She gestured to the dildo lying beside them. "You're insatiable. You could not make four days?"

Resting her head back on the pillow, Shepard closed her eyes. "I packed three. I believe in being prepared. The sensation-transmitting one. Two human models. Different sizes. And colors."

Laying her head back on Shepard's chest, Liara stifled a yawn and tucked her arms around her bondmate. "You're incorrigible."

"No, I'm sleepy." Shepard continued to stroke Liara's crest, her free arm wrapped tightly about Liara's waist, planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And besides, you're the one who picked them out, remember? You said we needed options."

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**Glad y'all are enjoying it, because I sure as hell am. I wrote this installment at a coffee house, sandwiched in between two college kids studying. It made me giggle.**

**Reviews are lusted for!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey y'all. How y'all doing? Good? Well then we'll just get to it then.**

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"I feel as if I'm about to walk into a nest of thresher maws." Liara put the back of her hand against her forehead. She and Shepard stood to the right of the raised dais where she would give her lecture, hidden by the speaker systems. There was a podium on the dais, but no one stood behind it yet. People were streaming in, some in groups, some alone. They were all scientists, academics of some sort, and reporters: mostly humans, a few asari, and the odd salarian or quarian. Miranda was already seated a few rows from the front, an empty seat next to her.

"You'll be fine." Shepard rested her hands on her shoulders, kissed her forehead. "Just imagine the entire crowd naked."

Liara made a face; she truly did not understand humans sometimes. "How is that supposed to help?"

"Well, if they're naked, they're more vulnerable and… hell, it's supposed to help, make you feel more comfortable." Shrugging, Shepard let her arms fall to her sides, tightened her grip on her cane. "That's what Anderson always told me. 'Imagine the Council in their skivvies,' he told me."

"I fail to see how imagining a room of two hundred people nude except for their undergarments is supposed to put me at ease. If anything, I would find it distracting and in bad taste." Liara glimpsed around the speaker and wanted to disappear. "Goddess…" There were so many people, so many scientists and scholars, so many people that were at least as smart as her. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Hey," Shepard cupped Liara's cheek, turned her face so that their eyes met. "You are the best person I know, and certainly the smartest. You'll be fine. You just get up there, say your piece, blow all of their tiny little minds, and it'll be fine. If you get nervous, I'll be in the audience, you can just look at me and know that I have never been prouder of anyone in my entire life." Shepard's voice was that mixture of gentle and stern that Liara always found to be utterly reassuring.

Her pulse slowed, but a ghost of doubt still lingered. "Are you certain, Shepard?"

"Damn right, I'm sure, woman. How dare you question me!" Shepard grinned and kissed Liara chastely on the lips. "You'll be fine."

Liara smiled and nodded resolutely. "Well, the great Commander Shepard is never wrong, so I suppose I believe you." She smiled and returned the kiss with one of her own. The hum of conversation was growing steadily louder as more people gathered, but Liara didn't hear it. Instead, she considered how Shepard could always make her believe anything was possible. She made an entire galaxy believe they had a chance against the Reapers, even when it appeared that everything and everyone was already lost. It shouldn't be a wonder that she was able to put Liara at ease, to make her feel safe. "Now unless you're prepared to give one of those stirring, pre-battle speeches you give, you better sit down before I lose my nerve again."

Leaning in, Shepard kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You'll be great. I know it." She turned reluctantly and left her lover by the dais alone.

"How is she?" Miranda asked as Shepard settled into the chair next to her, slipping her arm from the cuff of her cane and leaning it against her leg.

"Nervous as I have ever seen her, honestly." Shepard replied, glimpsing at her watch. There were still groups of people filing in, more than had been at the social the previous evening. The lecture wasn't supposed to begin for another ten minutes, and it appeared that there wouldn't be enough chairs for them all.

Miranda tilted her head. "She's one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. You'd think after removing and replacing the Shadow Broker with herself, a little thing like a talk on Prothean language would be easy." She had accompanied Shepard and Liara during their confrontation with the previous Shadow Broker, with the yahg, and had been promptly knocked unconscious during the fight. What she did remember was how disgusting the creature was, and that wasn't just human prejudice coloring her opinion.

"I still get nervous before every mission. Got nervous. As many as I had been on. Tell me that makes sense." Shepard shrugged; the correction of her verb tenses was not lost on her former executive officer. "And snakes. I hate snakes."

"Snakes?"

"Yes, I hate snakes. They're gross and venomous."

"Not all snakes are venomous, Shepard." Miranda could not help but point out, smirking. "You've died, you know. And you're scared of snakes?"

Shepard glared at her, indignant at the accusation. "I didn't say I was scared! They make me uneasy. If I see one, I'll kill it. I'm not scared." She crossed her arms over her chest, nodded at the dais. "I think Liara's nervous because this is the first time she's been taken seriously as a scholar and publically recognized for it. Which she deserves."

Miranda did not mention that Shepard deliberately changed the subject. Instead, she followed her gaze to the dais, where Liara stood off to the side. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she seemed calm, poised. "She's an amazing woman, Shepard."

"Careful. I might think you were hedging in on my territory, Miss Lawson."

"Perish the thought, Commander." Miranda reached over and tucked an errant lock of red hair behind Shepard's ear. "You need a haircut."

"Go to hell, Miri." Shepard responded amiably.

"I've been there." Miranda responded coolly, settling back in her seat. "I served under your command, remember?"

At that, Shepard chuckled. The lights dimmed as a matronly human woman stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone. She was old, with the look of a librarian who rarely abandoned her books for the outside world. The murmur of the conference attendants swelled and then quieted as the old woman introduced Liara, and Shepard dropped her voice to a whisper. "Bitch."

* * *

"So, how do you think of yourself?" Miranda asked, taking a small sip from her wine glass.

There ended up being a few functioning restaurants in the city. Most had converted over during the recovery process as cafeterias and distribution points to feed the survivors. But a few managed to reopen with a very limited, very expensive menu. It was nearly impossible to get a table without a reservation several months in advance. But of course, Miranda could be very persuasive. She may have mentioned that Commander Shepard was in town, and would love to visit such a fine establishment.

There were a limited number of tables, but they had immediately been shown the best table in the house, a darkened booth isolated away from the other patrons. Their table was dimly lit with candles, more for ambience than practicality. Since this was one of the only functioning restaurants left in the world, its clientele was exclusive. No one spoke too loudly, meals were served in courses, and the waiters wore black ties.

The sort of place the commander never would have frequented if she had been given a choice. Liara and Shepard sat on one side of the booth, leaning comfortably against one another. The asari was practically glowing, a small smile never fading from her lips. The lecture had gone very well, and the rest of the day she had been the center of attention as fellow academics pestered her with questions about her research. So much so that she ran over her allotted time by over an hour, and no one complained.

"What do you mean?" Shepard idly turned the stem of her own wine glass between her thumb and forefinger.

Miranda sat opposite the couple. "It is my understanding that female dominants can think of themselves in a variety of different ways. Are you a domme? A goddess? A mistress?"

Liara had been mid-sip of her own wine, and nearly sputtered into it. Even in the dim lighting, Miranda could make out the blush that colored her cheeks. Shepard merely seemed amused. "Ah. I don't know if I've ever given it much thought, Miranda."

"No? Well, Liara, how do you identify yourself?"

The asari plaintively glimpsed at her lover, as if for rescue, but Shepard shook her head, and Liara sighed. "I don't know if I have ever thought about it either. Outside of what we are, that is."

"Then what are you as a couple?" Miranda asked. She had expected a more direct answer, from either of them. Watching the interplay between the two of them was always fascinating. Only someone who was aware of the precise nature of their relationship might catch the subtle cues, the small gestures of submission from Liara, or the casual assertions of Shepard's authority. But it was one thing to be aware of a different cultural practice or relationship, one thing to read about it on the extranet, but quite another to actually know someone engaged in a different-than-the-perceived-normal practice. The scientist in Miranda got the better of her. It was nothing she would have given any thought to before, if her two closest friends had not been engaged in it.

"I'm Shepard's." Liara said quickly, taking a sip of her wine to mask her discomfort with the conversation. Liara had always been so introverted, so uncharacteristically proper for an asari.

"And?" Miranda blinked, surprised that she hadn't had to prompt for more information than that, that Shepard encouraged her lover to continue.

"Well, I am yours and I trust you, and I always have. I trust you to do what is best for me no matter what. To take care of me, protect me, love me, to guide me to be the person I want to be." Liara worried her lower lip between her teeth as she thought. "And I wanted to give you all of me, to show you that I trust you with all of me."

Shepard pulled Liara close to her and kissed the top of her head. "And I love Liara. I want to be… the best person I can be for her. I feel better knowing that I'm not just responsible for myself, but for another person. Now," She took a sip of wine and set it down on the table. "Come on, Miranda. What's with the questions?"

"I am curious to understand. I've never been in a relationship like yours, never met anyone who has been in such a relationship." She left out that she had never been close enough to anyone before to really know what they were like personally. Before Shepard, she had been so focused on the professional, on her work, that other people were merely tools or variables she had to puzzle into her plans. "I'm not judging. I am just curious."

The commander nodded, in the way she did whenever she was mulling something over, considering her words carefully. "Liara is mine. And I am hers. She's my lover, my bondmate, my wife in practice, and simply mine, and what we share is…" She paused, and Miranda noticed her turning the leather bracelet fastened around her opposite wrist. "A promise. She promises to love, to trust, and obey. And I promise to love, to cherish, and to care for her." She smiled lopsidedly at Liara, who was gazing up at her with open adoration. "About right, love?"

"You left out the part where you enjoy having your way with me in whatever way you like, Commander." Liara said quietly, her face faintly lavender, but her smile purely mischievous.

If Miranda had been drinking, or eating, she might have choked. As it was, she carefully maintained her expression of polite attentiveness, which broke when she saw Shepard's jaw drop in astonishment, and she chuckled.

"Liara!" Shepard exclaimed, clearly torn whether to be more surprised or scandalized by the normally conservative asari. But she laughed, and then shrugged helplessly at Miranda. "Well… she's right."

"It seems you've had more of an influence on her than either of us thought, Shepard." Miranda commented, and the women fell silent as the waiter arrived with their main course. As he set the plates down, she thought of what Shepard had said. She had always loved Liara; it had been clear from the first time Miranda saw the two together, even though that first meeting on Illium had been tense, awkward. She had understood their unconventional relationship since Shepard first confided in her about it, but she wanted to hear it in their words, how they defined themselves.

She hadn't determined why it was important yet, beyond a natural curiosity. "How did you end up… in that sort of relationship?"

"It just sort of evolved naturally," It was Liara who spoke this time, since Shepard was busy chewing and waved the question off to her bondmate.

Swallowing, Shepard arched a brow. "Why? Want to join us, Miranda?" She teased, clearly hoping to needle past her former executive officer's unflappable composure. She had always loved teasing Miranda, who was always so proper, so reserved, but in a very different way than Liara.

"Who says I hadn't already considered it, Commander?" Miranda felt a thrill of triumph as Shepard's jaw dropped again, clearly not expecting to be teased back. Usually, she just rolled her eyes at the commander's antics, sighed heavily and ignored her, or at the most came back with a scathing remark. Even Liara seemed amused by the sudden turn of tables, and she patted Shepard's back sympathetically as she coughed.

"Okay. That's it. Enough of this before both of you make me choke on this steak dinner." Shepard gestured emphatically with her fork and knife. "Tonight is supposed to be about Liara and her lecture anyway, celebrating how much academic face she owned today."

Miranda smiled and reached for wine glass, holding it up. "Then to Liara, a beautiful and talented woman who is reinventing everything we thought we knew about our past." She paused as the other women held up their glasses, Liara a little shyly. "And, as Shepard so eloquently put it, owned academic face. May this be the first in a very long list of scholarly accolades."

The women drank, and Liara smiled at her, reaching for her hand across the table. "Thank you, Miranda. It means a lot to me coming from you." The warmth of the asari's skin was missed immediately as her hand was withdrawn. "Now, we've covered unconventional relationships and polygamous sexual activities. What else do humans consider polite dinner conversation?"

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**A little bit of transitory filler. I'm kind of in a prompt-y mood. So if any of you fine readers have an idea of something you'd like to see in this fic, give me a head's up. I can't promise it'll be included, but I will fo' sho make an effort. Where do y'all want to see this fic go next?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Some plot. For funsies. Bribe with feedback. It works, and my ego needs it. **

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Rannoch was barren.

It was little more than an arid rock occasionally split by fertile areas along river banks, on the shores of lakes. Shepard saw none of those oases while she was on Rannoch. All she saw was wasteland.

The heat was oppressive. It was so hot that breathing felt nearly impossible, and Shepard fought hard for every breath, sucking in each inhalation with focused effort, as if she were trying to breathe inside an oven. It was as if she were suffocating, even though the atmosphere was entirely breathable. The sun glared spitefully at the planet below. The rocky, dusty ground below Shepard's feet only absorbed the sun's rays, meaning it felt as if she was being cooked from above and below.

There were no trees. No vegetation. Just brown rock and dust and sun. The landscape was empty, the only difference being elevation and varying rock formations. The breeze that blew was hot and only stirred up dust in clouds that washed over Shepard like waves breaking upon a beach.

She was sweating beneath her armor. Her face felt gritty with salt from her sweat, and her hair clung to the back of her neck. Dust had caked her face; Shepard had breathed it in and she could feel it coating the inside of her nostrils, in her mouth, between her teeth. Her helmet did nothing but make her hotter, and she was tempted to remove it just to alleviate some of her misery, but she didn't.

Shepard tried to spit, but her saliva was gummy. She was dehydrated; her eyes stung as sweat ran into them. She hated Rannoch. Why the Geth and Quarians fought over this forsaken bloody desert was beyond any comprehension.

And then there was shade.

For a moment, Shepard forgot everything and basked in the relative coolness of shadow, blocked from the torment of the sun. For a moment, there was no better feeling in the world than the moment's respite afforded by the Reaper's shadow.

The Reaper shifted on its many legs, and Shepard hoisted the targeting laser on her shoulder, feeling the familiar heft of its weight. She felt her finger slip through the trigger guard, her cheek resting on the stock of the weapon to sight it properly. It felt so familiar that the motion was automatic, as if she had done it a million times before. Patiently, she waited. The Reaper would prime its firing mechanism, flashing its weakness for just a moment. If she timed it correctly, the Fleet could target the Reaper before it could even fire its beam.

The metal casing slid back, revealing the glowing crimson eye as it surged, pulsing an electric red as it prepared to fire. The trigger depressed easily under Shepard's finger as the Reaper bellowed.

The sound was as indescribable as it was horrific. It wasn't a purely mechanical sound, but nor did it sound like anything organic either. It was terror personified; a sound that was felt as much as it was heard. It reverberated unspeakable horror, paralyzing inescapable fear in a deep primal, synthetic bugle. She felt its resonance in her body, in her bones, in her lungs, in her heart. She still felt its echo even after the Reaper fell silent.

The Reaper's call wasn't just death. It was something much worse than death. It was a death that one knew was unavoidable, but scrambled to flee from all the same, knowing the inevitable conclusion. It was a howl of extinction.

The Reaper's beam scythed through the air with the power of indiscriminate hate. Shepard had heard its call, seen the destruction the beams were capable of. How many had died the first few minutes on Earth? Buildings crumbled under the beam, great facades of glass and metal and concrete incinerated as if they were paper. Ships exploded as if their thick reinforced hulls were little more than aluminum foil. How could an organic body withstand such a force of devastation?

Shepard had seen on Earth that it couldn't. She had watched the scores of people fleeing for safety, running for a hope of sanctuary that didn't exist as the beam cut huge swathes through them. They were there, then they were gone. Men and women and children, families incinerated into ash and dust. Their last moments alive spent in futile terror, their last thoughts of panic.

The worst part was the powerlessness of it. There was no order, only chaos. The beam did not discriminate. It didn't care if you ran faster, if you dodged left or right, if you fled or hid or fought. There was no correct answer, no solution. Survival was based on chance. What could people do in such a situation when there was no option left to them, when nothing was the right thing to do, when no preparation or plan or defense could save them? A few lived. Many, many more died.

The scarlet white beam arced towards Shepard, plowing up the ground in front of her, showering her in chips of burning rock and dirt. Liara's voice called to her over the radio, but it was drowned out by another of the Reaper's petrifying bellows.

"Shepard!"

Shepard blinked. The sun was gone, casting her in darkness. She still felt sweat running down her shoulders and back, cooling, which wasn't right. Her skin felt too light without the weight of her armor. Her oddly empty hands clenched helplessly at fabric. She sat up abruptly, heart rioting in her chest. Several moments passed before she remembered that she was on Earth. There were no more Reapers. The war was over, and she was safe. She felt the warmth of a hand on her shoulder. Liara.

Throwing herself out of the bed, she lunged for the bathroom, only partially aware of her leg buckling underneath her. It didn't matter; she fell in reach of the toilet and pulled herself up in time to vomit. She was only vaguely aware of her physical surroundings. The porcelain of the toilet was cool beneath her forearms as she retched and spat. There was a hand on her back. The stain of hot tears on her face. The tile was hard beneath her knees.

She clutched at a wad of toilet paper and wiped her mouth before falling back against another something hard, the bathtub. Part of her mind registered all of the details. She was sitting on the bathroom floor of their hotel room. Liara knelt next to her. But in her mind, she was still on Rannoch. She was still standing in the cargo bay of the Normandy, watching Earth fall to the Reapers, watching a little boy die.

The memories were powerful, and as much as she tried to focus, she couldn't. She tried to pull one thing from her surroundings to focus on, one thing to convince herself that the present was real but the memories were too seductive, more real than reality.

Liara's voice swam to her as if through a fog. "Lissa… Shepard, you're not there anymore. You're here. It isn't real. You're here with me, and we're safe now." Gradually, the words became more and more plaintive, but Shepard could only hear the Reaper, feeling its noise in her chest. She slapped at the hands that grasped at her, trying to push them away, trying to fight off the panic that was grabbing at her.

Suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. Abruptly, Rannoch and Earth and the bathroom floor were replaced by feeling. Her heart slowed and her breathing steadied to a reasonable pace as warmth and reassurance enveloped her. She was okay. There was nothing to fear as Liara's love and affection washed over her, chasing away the panic and uncertainty. They were safe and happy, and nothing could harm them here. She wasn't there anymore. That was in the past, and it couldn't hurt her. She was with Liara, and the war was long over. There was nothing that could harm her on the floor of the bathroom, except for those horrid insects that humans called "cockroaches."

Gradually, Shepard returned to herself, freed from the lingering effects of her dreams. She yanked away from Liara, mentally rather than physically, and saw the asari's eyes fade from black to blue as the meld was broken.

"Don't you ever…" Shepard hissed through clenched teeth and realized she was sobbing. "…you ever do that again!" She tried to blink away the tears but they kept coming. Her eyes stung, but no amount of blinking held them back.

Liara acted as if she had not heard her, and smoothed her damp hair from her brow. "You're okay, Shepard."

The meld was too dangerous when she was like that; when all Shepard could feel was fear and panic, when she was completely lost to memory. She did not want Liara joining with her, even if it put her at ease. She did not want her lover to experience those emotions, see what she had seen. Liara wasn't fragile; she had seen her fair share of atrocity over the years, but Shepard was determined she not be subjected to any more.

Catching Liara's wrist in her hand, she held it tightly, forced her to look at her. "Don't do that again, Liara." Her jaw was still clenched. "I mean it, don't."

She knew Liara, knew the flash of defiance that crept into her eyes, and she prepared herself to argue. She would make it an order if she had to, but she could not bear for her lover to feel with her, to experience her nightmares, her memories. Liara opened her mouth to reply, but a subtle blue light interrupted them both.

Their eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so the subtle blue light was blinding as it approached. It bled into the bathroom from the bedroom, growing steadily stronger until Miranda appeared in the doorway, a sidearm leveled at both of them.

The other human's biotics snaked in visible wisps around her, like glowing water vapor, like fog rolling off the water. As her eyes settled on the two women on the bathroom floor, as she realized there was no danger, she lowered her weapon, and the biotics gradually faded like smoke dissipating. "Are you okay? My sensors went off, and I heard a shout."

Miranda had evidently leapt out of bed and reached for her sidearm, heedless of her state of undress. It was odd. Shepard thought she had been accustomed to seeing Miranda in civilian clothes, in anything other than that Cerberus uniform. But, it occurred to her that she had never seen her tie her hair back into a messy ponytail. And she would have never guessed that the perfect woman wore boxers to sleep.

"We're fine, Miranda. Shepard just had a nightmare." Liara gently tugged her wrist from Shepard's hand and stood. "I'm sorry we woke you."

Slowly, Miranda nodded. "Get her onto the bed. I'll grab my kit and make sure she's okay."

They both spoke as if she was incapable of answering for herself, which should have annoyed Shepard, but instead she found she was too exhausted to care. She allowed Liara to slip an arm under her shoulders, to help her to her feet. She hissed in pain as she put weight on her bad leg, but with Liara's assistance managed to limp back to the bed. "I'm fine, Liara."

The asari smiled and cupped her cheek leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "I know. But let Miranda check you out. You know how stubborn she can be."

"I'm not stubborn," Miranda responded as she returned into the room, the sidearm in her hand replaced with a small black leather bag. "I am responsible Shepard's medical care, and I believe in being thorough. Liara, will you get the lights?"

The lamp on the bedside table was blinding, and Shepard squeezed her eyes shut against the assault of the light. She felt hands on her face angling her towards the light, knew instinctively they were not Liara's hands. Fingers prodded the healing cut on her temple, felt at her neck for her pulse. "You still have sensors on me?" She opened her eyes, Miranda's face directly over hers.

"Of course I do." Her fingers danced over her omnitool as she scanned Shepard's body. "They are set to alert me if there is an abnormal fluctuation in your vitals. I am directly responsible for your medical well-being, Shepard. As I am sure I have told you a million times." There was a faint hint of annoyance in her voice, but Shepard found that familiar and strangely comforting. Miranda dropped to her knees and began scanning her bare leg. "You're putting too much stress on this leg. You need to take it easy."

Behind Miranda, Liara scoffed. "I heard that." Shepard frowned as Miranda bent her leg and then extended it, testing her range of motion, stopping when she felt resistance. "It's not like I've tackling krogan or chasing after geth. I've been walking." She could not help but snap irritably.

"Which you should not try to do without your cane," Miranda pointed out, and Shepard wanted to snap back at her but Liara moved beside her and placed a hand on the back of her neck as if she could read Shepard's mind, so she stayed silent. "I'm going to administer a mild sedative to help you sleep." She reached for her bag.

"I don't need a damn sedative." She hated being made to feel as if she were an invalid, incapable of caring for herself. She was fine, more or less.

"You need to rest, Shepard. Please." Liara's voice was soft, soothing. Her fingers toyed with the hair on the back of her neck in the way she knew Shepard loved. Her blue eyes were solemn, full of loving concern, and slowly, Shepard nodded. If it made her lover feel better this was a concession that she would make.

"Fine." Shepard grunted and held out her arm for Miranda and the syringe she held. She looked up at her lover, felt a pang of guilt that accompanied the pinch of the needle. "Thank you."

Liara's lips met hers gingerly. "You don't have to thank me for anything. I love you."

* * *

"How often does this happen?" Miranda whispered once Shepard was asleep again. She and Liara had closed the bedroom door behind them and sat on opposite sides of one of the couches in the lounge.

Liara rubbed her eyes with the back of her palm. "Not often. I think bringing her here, her seeing all the destruction… It wasn't a good idea." She should have realized that seeing the rubble, the chaos still left on Earth might trigger such a response in her lover. Once every couple of weeks she woke up crying, or screaming, depending on the nature of her nightmares. This had been the worst of it. Usually after a few calming words from Liara, the dream would relinquish its hold on Shepard and she would be… maybe not okay, but not trapped in another time, another reality.

Tonight, she had been forced to join with Shepard, to convince her that the dreams weren't real, that she was safe. What she had seen, felt in Shepard's mind was horrible, and she shivered with the thought of it. "Besides, you have sensors. Shouldn't you know?"

Slowly, Miranda nodded. "I wanted to hear what you thought. Usually, I can tell when she's just having a nightmare. It passes fairly quickly. Tonight her vitals were slower to return to normal." The human had tucked one of her legs underneath her, the other bent and held to her chest by looped arms. It made Miranda appear much younger, much more vulnerable than Liara ever remembered seeing her. "Are you okay?"

Liara laughed ruefully. "I never thought about it before. It hurts to see Shepard like this, to know she sacrificed so much of herself, that she still suffers so, just so we can all be here. But I've never thought about it; I just take care of her, do whatever I have to help her. It has reached a point that this is normal, and that is…" She thought for a moment. "…okay. I'll always do whatever I can to take care of her. I love her."

"And you truly are alright?" There was a note of concern in Miranda's voice that caught Liara off guard. Could she ever have envisioned a time when they cared about one another?

"Yes." Liara tilted her head to the side, smoothed the oversized t-shirt she wore for sleeping over her lap. Who would have imagined there would ever be a time when she and Miranda cared for one another, let alone would sit in their sleeping clothes in the middle of the night having an emotional conversation? "I never give it much thought, honestly. I suppose it is similar to Shepard. She never questioned what she had to do, she just did it and never wasted time doubting. Even now, if you asked her, I am sure she would tell you that she is satisfied with the way things turned out. It is not so different for myself. Or you, I imagine."

"That is true. But I am also aware of how… difficult the commander can be."

Liara smiled fondly. "Yes. She can be. Wishing you would have implanted that control chip, Miranda?" The perfect woman had the grace to look abashed, and had the light not been so dim, Liara might have thought she was blushing. "Yes, Shepard told me about it. And sometimes, I wish you had too."

Miranda's gaze snapped to her, disbelief clearly dancing in her brilliant blue eyes. When she realized that Liara had been only half-teasing, she laughed incredulously. "Interesting. Given the nature of your relationship."

"Just because she's my… owner," Liara faltered a bit over the word, still unaccustomed to talking so freely about her and Shepard's relationship with another person. "Does not mean we agree about everything. Or that she doesn't drive me absolutely crazy at times. Do you know I had to threaten to call you and Admiral Hackett once to get her to take her medicine?"

"I'm sure she appreciated that."

"You have no idea, Miss Lawson." Liara smiled faintly at the memory.

The cushions shifted under Miranda as she moved closer, next to Liara, seated sideways so that she was facing the asari. "Do you remember what I told you when we first pulled her from the rubble?"

Liara tilted her head to the side. She tried not to think about those days, much. When everyone was terrified, uncertain if the Reapers were really gone. It was as if the entire galaxy held its breath, waiting, not daring to hope. "I do," she responded slowly. "You told me that you would give her back to me, that I wasn't alone. We would get her back together."

Nodding, she reached for Liara's hand, initiating physical contact which was wholly unlike the former Cerberus operative. "That's still true," She said quietly. "You don't ever have to do this alone." Clearly uncomfortable by the sensitive turn the conversation had taken, Miranda persevered nonetheless. "I am here. For both of you. After the Reapers… I like to think that we share more than just Shepard."

It was true. However clumsy the declaration had been, Miranda had said she was Liara's friend. The early months of Shepard's recovery were a blur of procedures, of sleepless stretches, of desperate waiting, longing to see clear green eyes and that certain smile. Miranda's hand on her shoulder, her voice cutting through the haze, her honesty and diligence, the firm, grim line of her mouth as she worked. Liara squeezed Miranda's hand. "Thank you. Not just for Shepard, but for everything."

Eyes two different shades of blue met. "Come back with us. To the mountain. It would be nice to have you there, and I know Shepard likes having you around. It might… help her. I know she misses not having the squad, a crew."

"To that horrid little cabin?"

"Yes," Liara smiled and patted Miranda's bare knee. "And you can explain the odd human fascination with this 'plaid.'"

* * *

**I am pretty sure this fic will never end. Ever. And I am okay with this. I'll keep on going as long as y'all keep wanting to read this. Feedback me, y'all.**

**And another massive shout out to T.A. Blackwell for keeping me from making stupid mistakes and being an asshat, and for being a huge support. Y'all should thank her.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Just a short bit of fluff to see you through your day. **

* * *

There was a portion of the city which had been cleared of debris, at least partially. The streets were cleared and passable. The buildings that could be salvaged had been and were restored enough to be functional once again. Those that were damaged beyond repair had been knocked down, and new structures were taking form in their place. There were a few that were completed, but dozens more stood in various states of completion from empty foundations to bare frames to nearly finished.

The sidewalks were mostly clear, and Shepard knocked any stray bits of concrete or metal from her path with her cane. Not all massive piles of debris and rubble had been trucked away. Some of it remained on the side of the street in great heaps. With a rebuilding effort so massive, it would take years for everything to appear normal again.

The streets were mostly empty. Occasionally a military vehicle would rumble past or, more rarely, a civilian car. There were people out, but most of them were workers either clearing more wreckage away or constructing the new buildings, repairing the old. They passed one family on their walk, a young mother and a small child. Shepard tried not to wonder how many of their family had not survived the war.

It was one blessing of the Reapers. Those caught in the beam were incinerated. There were few bodies to clear away once it was all over, except those killed as buildings collapsed around them or by Reaper ground troops. As it was, there were still bodies trapped in the concrete tombs of destroyed buildings. Thankfully, enough time had passed that the bodies were long decomposed and any lingering smell of death was stifled by the unseasonably cool weather.

"Are you alright, Shepard?" Liara asked, her arm looped through Shepard's.

The commander nodded. The sedative from the previous night still lingered in her system, making her feel slow and sluggish. Her limbs felt heavier, leaden. She remembered feeling like this when she first awoke on the Alliance Fleet vessel, although then it had been much worse. Then she hadn't been able to lift her head without assistance. "Mmm. I don't see why we have to go get more medicine. I have a million bottles of the stuff at home."

"You didn't have to come. I told you I could get it, or Miranda offered as well."

"We're leaving tomorrow. The meds are 'as needed.' I think I could have toughed it out for a day."

"You were the one who packed three separate sex toys but not enough medicine." Liara dropped her voice, even though there was no one near enough to hear them, and Shepard grinned and shrugged helplessly. "You are shameless."

As if emphasizing Liara's point, she dropped her free hand to the asari's rear and pinched. "You knew that when we met, and I corrupted your pure, innocent asari maidenhood."

"Oh, hush." Liara nudged her playfully with her shoulder. "We should be almost there, Miranda said it was—"

Shepard abruptly held her hand out in a gesture that Liara immediately recognized from their many missions together and fell silent, hand instinctively reaching inside her lab coat. The sound that had drawn her attention was faint, a barely audible scratching from the alley beside them. Out of habit, she pushed Liara behind her and advanced into the darkened alley. Stone crunched under her feet, and she cursed mentally. She did not realize how naked she felt without armor, unarmed as she reached over her shoulder for a weapon and grasped futilely at nothing.

"Shepard!" Liara whispered harshly as the commander continued her advance, turning to cover back, eyes darting left and right, scanning for hostiles. The small pistol she kept secreted under her lab coat felt odd in her hands, the slick metal cool against her palms. The action felt natural to her body; she had fought alongside Shepard for years. But that seemed so long ago, and the thrill-fear of combat tasted differently now, less of acceptance and more of fear.

Her lover was in no condition to fight. And the past year had bred complacency in them both, Liara realized. Without fighting, without constant threat, Liara felt safe and assured. Not so long ago, the two of them would not have dreamed of walking down any street without armor and weapons.

There was no movement on the street, nothing to denote any danger of any kind. But Liara knew to trust the commander's instincts. If she called for silence, there was a reason for it. She whirled at the wholly uncharacteristic sound that escaped her lover, a half-squeal, half-coo. Shepard was on her knees, cane on the ground beside her, hunched over. Liara felt bile rise up in her throat and advanced quickly, her pistol seeking out the nearest target.

But Shepard turned on her knees, her face split by a broad grin instead a grimace of pain. "Look!"

Liara did, and what she saw was not altogether reassuring. She had watched the nature vids showcasing the native wildlife of Earth. "Goddess, Shepard! Put it down!" She did not lower her weapon. The lethal predator that Shepard cradled in her arms was an infant, smaller than Liara would have expected one to be, but that could only mean its parent was close by. And she had seen how a fully-grown tiger could easily take down another animal twice its size.

Shepard quirked a brow, bewildered by her lover's distress. "It isn't going to hurt me, Liara. It's a kitten. Lower your weapon." As if to affirm the commander's words, the little ball of orange fur mewed.

"Infant animals are often accompanied by their parents. Goddess, Shepard. You grew up on this planet; you've seen what an adult tiger can do, and you have one of its young in your arms!" Liara warily glimpsed down the alley way, searching for any sign of the baby tiger's parent. Shepard could be reckless at times, but this was far even for her.

Understanding bled through confusion, and Shepard laughed. "It isn't a tiger, Liara. It's a cat. The adult version of this is no bigger than…" Her brow knitted together as she tried to find a comparison that Liara would understand. "A baby varren." She held up the little creature for her to see more closely. "See?"

The animal was painfully small. Tiny enough to fit in a single hand. Upon closer examination, Liara realized that its coloring and markings were different from those she had seen on the vids. It was marbled orange, with stripes of a paler orange instead of black. Its little canines were only fierce in the sense they were adorable, and did not seem capable of ripping apart a wad of tissue, let alone another animal. It twitched its nose and whiskers at the asari, as if sniffing her, and then mewed again.

"Here, take him." Shepard thrust the kitten into her hands, and Liara fumbled with her sidearm before managing to get it back in its holster so she could cradle the animal like she had seen Shepard do. It was surprisingly soft, its hair an even softer texture than that on Shepard's head. The fur also gave the illusion that the already tiny animal was bigger than it was, but holding it, she could feel how slight and fragile its body was.

Dusting off her trousers, Shepard straightened and adjusted her cane before offering to take the kitten back. She bent her free arm so the animal settled comfortably against her; it rumbled like something mechanical and began kneading into Shepard's jacket with its forefeet, sucking at the stiff fabric. The expression on her lover's face was one of tenderness, her smile oddly affectionate. It was the same expression she wore whenever speaking to children: infinitely patient, gentle. The sight of it caused Liara's heart to swell with adoration even though she thought it strange that Shepard would look at an animal that way.

"What do we do with it?" Liara asked as they stepped out of the shaded alley onto the sidewalk again.

"We keep it."

"What? Keep a wild animal? Why would we do such a thing?"

"It isn't a wild animal, Liara." Shepard began walking in the direction of the Alliance supply depot. "It's a cat; they're domesticated. Pets."

The notion of a "pet" wasn't a purely human one. Plenty of species kept animals for a variety of reasons, but the concept was still somewhat puzzling to Liara. A pet did not serve a function, to her knowledge. It was not utilitarian. But, so far there were a dozen things that she still did not completely understand about humans, and she had learned to accept them until she could find an adequate explanation for them. She supposed this might be one of those things. "We're keeping it?"

"Think about it, Liara. Somehow, this kitten's parents managed to survive the Reaper war in this city when most people didn't. Then, he managed to be born and survive amidst all this…" Shepard did not finish her sentence; instead, she jerked her head in the direction of a heap of wreckage that had yet to be collected off the street. "And besides it is cute."

"As you wish, Commander." Liara replied, still uncertain.

Leaning over, Shepard kissed Liara's temple. "I know asari are monogendered so the concept of "lesbian" is totally alien to you, Liara, but it is how I think of myself. Think of it like… a long lost civilization you are unearthing and learning about."

Liara smiled at the ghost of lips against her skin and moved closer to her lover, wrapping her fingers under her upper arm and pulling her close. Shepard had attempted to explain concepts of human sexuality to her before. Humans mysteriously divided themselves on who they were attracted to, what practices they enjoyed, and the various states of sexual development. Though the word meant nothing to Liara, Shepard identified herself as a "lesbian," or exclusively attracted to other women. "I don't see how that is relevant to… anything at all, Shepard."

"Of course it's relevant!" The kitten had fallen asleep, nuzzled into Shepard's armpit. "Because it's part of our culture. Ask any lesbian, and they'll agree. We are certain to love two things. Plaid flannel. And cats." The asari had absolutely no intention on asking any other lesbian whether or not this was true, but she didn't say so. Shepard tilted her head to the side, her brow deeply furrowed as the thought. "And seafood. So three things, really."

* * *

**I have more plaid flannel in my closet than any one person should. Where did we eat dinner tonight? The sushi restaurant where they know us by first name. And then I came home and cuddled with my cat. **

**Shepard is really gay. Not in part by the fact they just used the same animations for both ManShep and FemShep, which makes her outgay most lesbians. Besides, after everything poor Shep has been through, she deserves a kitten.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, after literally eight complete rewrites, I finally got this chapter up.**

**I will warn you that it is pretty much completely lifestyle D/s stuff, so if that sort of thing bothers you... how the hell have you made it this far into the fic?**

* * *

It was midafternoon when they returned to the hotel. Miranda was waiting for them on the couch facing the door, legs crossed and datapad in her lap. She glimpsed up, then back down at the datapad, slender fingers skimming the screen. "Did you find it alright? Did you get Shepard's medication?"

The couple sat on the sofa across from her, Shepard dropping down unceremoniously and Liara settling down and crossing her legs in a manner much more dignified. "We did. Your directions were flawless, Miranda," Liara answered; Shepard was preoccupied with the kitten in her arms, ticking through a long list of possible names. The kitten swatted at her fingers and mewled his protest as she extricated him from her jacket and set him on her lap.

Miranda glanced up again, and this time her steel blue eyes narrowed at Shepard and the ball of orange fur on her lap. "What is that?"

"It's a kitten." Shepard wiggled her fingers so that he attacked, swiping futilely with his tiny paws.

Her former executive officer sighed heavily, as if merely interacting with Shepard exhausted her. "I am aware of that, Shepard. It was a rhetorical question, which doesn't require an answer which you very well knew in the first place. What is it?"

"Oh. Well." Unable to resist further baiting her friend, Shepard lifted the kitten and held him up so that Miranda could get a better look at him and grinned. "It's a rhetorical kitten."

Liara smiled, but took pity on Miranda. "Shepard found him in an alley on our way to the supply depot. She insists on keeping it. As a pet. She claims it is of important cultural significance to her people."

"Important cultural significance?" Miranda repeated, bewildered and wondering if her translator was functioning correctly. There were often miscommunications and misunderstandings between different species, nuances of culture and social activity that did not quite translate. It was particularly difficult to decipher whether or not Liara was misunderstanding something that Shepard had told her, or if Miranda was misunderstanding the asari's phrasing.

"Lesbian." Shepard explained.

"Oh, God." Miranda powered down her datapad, rolled her eyes. "Before this conversation becomes any more ridiculous, and before I forget, I arranged for the shuttle to pick us up at noon."

"Us?" The commander blinked and cocked her head to the side.

Miranda glanced at Liara and then shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I, ah… I thought Liara had discussed it with you."

Frowning, Shepard stopped petting the kitten on her lap and glanced at her lover, who appeared equally uncomfortable. She did not like being confused, and she liked it even less when she seemed to be the only person who did not understand what was going on. "Discussed what?"

"I invited Miranda to stay with us at the cabin for a while. I meant to discuss it with you." Liara folded her hands in her lap.

"Liara." She said her lover's name almost like a reprimand, the way she did when she was not truly displeased and was giving her a chance to explain herself or rectify the situation before she did become displeased. It was the same way she said her name whenever Liara was being bull-headed about speaking to Aethyta, her father, for the first time.

The only thing the asari said in her defense, however, was: "It slipped my mind; I truly meant to discuss it with you."

"If it is an intrusion, I don't have to come, Shepard." Miranda said, clearly feeling the awkwardness of the moment. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, scratched her collarbone. It was a gesture that Shepard recognized long ago as telling of Miranda's discomfort.

"No, Miranda. I promise it isn't you. I would love if you were to come home with us. I think it is a great idea." Shepard said quickly, hoping to put the other human at ease.

"If it makes either of you uncomfortable—"

Liara was the one to interrupt her this time. "It isn't you, Miranda. I should have discussed it with Shepard first or at least talked about it with her afterwards. And I didn't. That is the problem. Not you staying with us."

"It'll be like the old days, and I can interrupt you every five minutes so you can't get anything done." Shepard grinned and placed the kitten in between herself and Liara. The kitten protested at being moved off her lap, but kneaded the couch cushions a few times before lying down and falling back asleep.

Miranda had raised both her brows. "Oh. Wonderful," She replied sarcastically. "Are you certain, though? I don't want to cause any… conflict." She glimpsed meaningfully at Liara, then Shepard again.

"There is no conflict, Miranda. And least of all, none that involves you. Liara is correct. It isn't that she asked you to the cabin. I think that's a great idea; it's that she did so without discussing it with me first." Shepard had placed her hand on Liara's shoulder, and the wave of dread curled into tight ball in the asari's stomach. "Liara and I just need to have a discussion."

Miranda nodded thoughtfully, shifted as if to stand up. "I'll leave you two—"

"No," Shepard shook her head vehemently. "I think it would be best if you stayed, Miranda. If you're coming back with us, and I want you to if you're still agreeable to it, I think it's best if you're… aware of how Liara and I handle things." Slowly, Miranda nodded and sunk back down into the couch, and Shepard examined her own folded hands. "You know both of us extremely well, and understand our lifestyle to an extent. I don't see any reason that anything should change when we go home."

Liara's face burned, but she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground at her feet. Dread had settled like a weight of lead on her diaphragm, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest. She could feel Shepard's eyes on her, but she said nothing. She hated feeling like this, more than anything. Knowing she had upset Shepard, disappointed her, was worse than anything she had suffered at the hands of the Reapers.

Shepard wasn't angry at her, although Liara almost wished that she was. Shepard had only gotten truly angry with her twice before, and while neither was an occurrence she wished to repeat, anger was always easier to deal with. It was the calm patience that Liara felt so maddening. Shepard never yelled, never raised her voice. She was patient and firm, always explaining herself and the root of her displeasure.

Having Shepard so calm and understanding only made Liara feel worse.

It had been that way before she had even accepted Shepard's collar, before they had been lovers even. One disapproving glimpse from the commander was enough to make her fall silent, to desist whatever she had been doing to earn that disapproval. Even her name, said in the right tone, was enough of a reprimand.

What made it worse at the moment was that Miranda was witness to their disagreement. Liara kicked herself mentally. She should have known better than to simply invite Miranda home with them without discussing it with Shepard first. And had she brought it up to Shepard and talked about it before, it would not have caught the commander off guard, and she wouldn't have been upset.

But honestly, she had forgotten.

It wasn't the first time Liara had been reprimanded by Shepard in front of others, but then it seemed like a casual thing: a commander correcting one of her crew. But Miranda knew the nature of their relationship, and even though Shepard had been gentle about it, even though the other human never seemed to judge either of them for their unconventional relationship, Liara felt the heat of embarrassment on her face, the shame of breaking one of Shepard's rules compounded by the fact that a third party was present. If she knew the commander at all, she probably counted on that and was using it as a lesson, as part of her punishment.

She wished Shepard would end the silence, say something, even if it was to scold her. "Commander—"

"Listen to me, Liara. I'm not mad, and honestly, I'm not even truly upset." Shepard began firmly, as if they were alone, and Liara realized exactly how serious Shepard had been about Miranda's presence not changing anything. "But that was a large decision, and we agreed that when you accepted my collar we'd make decisions like that together."

"I know." Liara yearned to reach out and touch her lover, to feel the comfort of physical contact, but she knew better to reach out when she was being lectured. Shepard rarely, if ever, gave a command or made a decision without consulting Liara or explaining herself. It wasn't who she was. They made decisions together, with Shepard having the final say. Shepard was right to correct her; Liara had broken what she herself had agreed to, and she was more angry with herself than anything. "I just didn't think about it."

Shepard shifted forward on the edge of the sofa. "Come here."

Liara inhaled deeply and complied. She stood and moved in front of her lover, head held confidently high to mask her trepidation and waited. Shepard took her hand and tugged. Liara felt herself pulled into Shepard's lap, strong arms wrapping around her waist. She dropped her forehead to Shepard's shoulder, grateful for the comfort of closeness, of touch. "I'm sorry." She murmured with conviction.

"I know, my love, but I don't want you to apologize to me. I want you to apologize to Miranda." Shepard shifted her shoulder so that Liara lifted her head and looked at her. "You invited her without my permission, and when I was caught off guard, I probably made her feel as if she wasn't wanted. Which is far from the truth. I think you owe her an apology."

For the first time, Miranda made her presence known, shaking her head and shifting uncomfortably. "Shepard, that really isn't—"

"Miranda." Liara startled a little at Shepard's "command voice." It wasn't particularly louder or sharper than any of her other tones, but it was just a hint different enough from her normal, husky speaking voice that the asari could immediately detect the shift. Surprisingly, Miranda seemed to recognize it as well, and even more astonishing, she did not protest or argue, which Liara would have expected. Instead, she slowly nodded.

Liara felt Shepard's arms loosen around her waist, and she stood and crossed the small gap between the couches to Miranda. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if she should drop into a kneeling position as a gesture of submission, the way she did whenever formally apologizing to Shepard. Instead, she sat next to the other human, reached for her hand. "I really am sorry, Miranda," She inhaled deeply and prepared herself, knowing that an apology was not acceptable by itself, without an explanation of what she was apologizing for. "I should have talked to Shepard about it, so it wouldn't seem like she, or we, do not want you around. I'm sorry you were drawn into this."

Miranda smiled reassuringly and intertwined their fingers together. "Apology accepted, Liara." She cocked her head to the side. "And don't worry; I've seen Shepard scream bloody murder at some of the Cerberus crew. This was nothing." Liara felt her stomach unknot itself a bit, grateful for Miranda's kindness.

"That is a lie! I never yell." Shepard protested, crossing her arms over her chest in mock sternness. "Miranda isn't allowed to come if all you two are going to do is gang up against me."

Ignoring her former commander, Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Shepard is very lucky to have you, Liara."

"I don't deserve her." Liara said, shyly ducking her head at the compliment. She was used to Shepard saying such things; she was unaccustomed to hearing them from anyone else, let alone a woman who was regarded by the majority of the galaxy as flawless.

"What atrocity could you possibly have committed to deserve Shepard inflicted on you?" Miranda said dryly and rolled her eyes pointedly.

"Okay, that's it. Liara!" Shepard waved the asari back over to her couch. "Away from Miranda and her damn corruptive influence."

"Yes, Commander." Liara replied, trying to suppress the smile dancing on her lips.

"Ah," Shepard said, more solemnly this time and pulled her lover back into her lap. "No "commander," no "ma'am" until we are home. To remind you of the agreement we made when you accepted my collar." Shepard placed her hand in the small of her back. "And so you remember to talk to me when you make decisions like that again."

Liara bit her lower lip and nodded her acceptance rather than replying verbally, not trusting herself not to say the "yes, ma'am" that came completely naturally to her whenever Shepard gave her a command, an instruction. This was her punishment, and as much as she hated it, part of her already felt better. Dread was replaced by determination not to disappoint Shepard again, to accept it and make her lover, her owner proud.

It might seem strange to other people, and part of her wondered if Miranda understood. But it was what she agreed to when she accepted Shepard's collar, and it was not a decision she took lightly. Neither of them did. She trusted, and wanted, Shepard to hold her accountable for her actions. It was reassuring to know that whatever she did, whatever happened that her lover would catch her, never let her fall. She felt a sense of boundless relief when there were consequences for her actions.

As much as she hated the idea of not addressing Shepard by a title of respect, as much she detested the distance it set between them as owner and owned, she understood the purpose behind it. The idea of disappointing or angering Shepard and not being disciplined for it, of not being granted immediate absolution, was unthinkable and horrible to Liara. To just have her angry and not atone?

Liara kissed the corner of Shepard's mouth gingerly, touched her fingers to the leather band still adorning the commander's wrist. "As you wish… Shepard."

* * *

**Another note: I wrote this on the beach. You should be jealous. Waves. Bikinis. Scalding hot sun. Sand. Icy-cold red bulls. In-laws. Yes. It was fantastic.**

**I want to do another shout-out to T.A. Blackwell for putting up with my neurosis, especially with this chapter. **

**Let me know what y'all think. Especially all you other lifestylers out there.**


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